~ You were only waiting
for this moment to arise ~
•••
In which Laura Allen begins her internship at Seattle Grace. Facing challenges, friendship, love, and a few too many life-or-death situations along the way, she works her way towards becomin...
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•••
Laura groaned when her alarm went off. It was the middle of the night, and it was time to get up for her next shift.
She quickly got ready and had a bagel in her hand as she walked out, banging her hand against Alex's door twice, knowing he had a habit of running late, before she continued towards the staircase.
Behind her, she heard a door open and slam shut, and Alex came running after her.
"Hey, it's raining. Can I catch a ride with you?" he fell into stride next to her.
"No," she answered dryly without looking at him.
"Come on," he groaned. "You're like the ice lady. We're probably already gonna be late and it'll take me even longer if I have to ride a bike there."
She sighed. "Fine, but after work you're buying me a pizza."
"Sweet," he grinned, assuming she was gonna share it.
"No, no," she stopped him. "It's for me."
She opened the door to the stairs and began walking down, leaving Alex to look after her. "Cold as ice."
•••
As predicted, they'd been a few minutes late. The interns had been tasked with doing pre-rounds. Laura, still on Shepherds service, was with the patient scheduled for a chordotomy when she was paged by the attending to Trauma. She quickly excused herself and went down there, running into Izzie on the way.
"Do you have a tampon?"
"Nope, sorry," she shrugged and continued walking, hearing Izzie let out a small curse.
She'd met Meredith George and Alex on the way. They exited the elevator and entered the room seeing a bloodied man on the table, with scans showing something that made Laura widen her eyes in shock.
"Those look like..." Meredith trailed off.
"Nails," Shepherd specified.
"Cool," Laura breathed.
By some miracle, the man was conscious and in quite good shape considering the circumstances. There was one problem though.
"I can't see my hands," he panicked.
"Oh, my God," George looked at him. "He's conscious."
"Breathe deeply, George. You won't pass out," Alex mocked.
"Use four milligrams of morphine. Titrate up to ten," Shepherd instructed. "If you have to-- You know what? I don't want him to move."
